Harry Potter and The Pork Swords of Moans
by queefnuts
Summary: A family-friendly story of love, deception, drama, tears, ecstasy, and tragedy. Harry is caught in the most unexpected love octagon you've ever heard of. Hold on tight. *disclaimer: we do not claim rights on the Harry Potter series. we do not infringe on copyright protections. thanks for reading this story*
1. You're A Temptress Harry

**A Couple Weeks Later...**

You may know Boobious Gagrid as Rubeus Hagrid, but alas the latter is an alias to hide the raw truth of Gag's carnage. It was a foggy day on the grassy plains outside of Gagrids no clunge dungeon. Gagrid stood just outside of Buckbeaks corral; looking out towards Hogwarts with a melacholic gaze. Gagrid knew the fogs brought out his steamiest of desires, and the treasure he sought after was out of reach, deep within the castle walls; he let out a sigh, dreaming of this treasure deep within _HIS OWN_ castle walls. A light breeze swept over the land, the grass dancing on the curvaceous, sensual hills surrounding Gagrid's abode. Suddenly Gagrid heard a yell in the distance... it was Harry, Harry Potter the chosen one. Gagrid ran away due to uncontrollable rush of sexual tendencies that came to his mind.  
"Help!" Harry yelped, which only furthered Gaggy's ravenous cravings to the point where his throbbing wand was radiating through his trousers. Of course, his wooly snake-like member was always hard to hide when awakened with the hello of his lava of desire, begging to be released. Gagrid ran through the woods towards the sound of Harry's cries, his stark meaty apendage swinging from side to side to the rythym of his heavy footsteps stomping on the forest floor. As he stumbled out from the dense foliage panting from exhaustion, but quivering with desire; Gagrid sighed with relief as he discovered the fate of young Potter. At the edge of the land, there the young man hung, chained to the Womping Willow, bare-assed and out of breath. He was painted with his own blood, seeping from wounds inflicted by the mighty tree; Gagrid was overcome with an unmanageable burn in his body, an impulse so heavy he could feel the air escaping his lungs. Gagrid knew this was the doing of someone beyond adept, someone who must harness the same longing for Harry as he did; a rage came over Gaggy, but he could not peel his eyes away from Harry's scrumptiously sweaty body, moist from the agony (and pleasure, Gagrid secretly hoped) Harry had been enduring from the Whomping Willow.  
Gagrid approached Harry, licking away the heavy perspiration lingering on his upper lip, making it a point to lock his black stricken eyes with Harry.  
"I'm here to help," Gaggy comforted, "but first,"  
"ANYTHING! I'll do anything, even, be your slave" Harry begged, which left Gagrid ready to engulf his small wizard friend's petite pickled asshole with every inch of his fire.  
"Lick me." Gagrid ordered his sweaty, defeated slave. Gaggy ripped his shirt open while staring Harry deep into the eyes with a stern but passionate expression on his face. He pushed his sticky hair covered chest up against Harry's face. Harry eagerly licked Gagrids swollen purple tinged nipples. Gagrid lets out a slow longing moan, and immediately after takes a step back and gives Harry a swift and powerful slap across his face. Harry howled out in pleasure, like a primitive beast on his first hunt, all the more enticing and entrancing Gagrid to release his wrath.  
"Surely you can do better than that," Harry snickered, letting out a smirk.  
This drove Gaggy to his breaking point, he could feel his own sticky sweet seed dripping down his beefy legs- Harry let out a whimper, sensing the warmth and wetness of Gag's flowing river. Who knows how long since the last time this half giant let out his giant load onto a specimen so... juicy, defiled and hungry for his unending cream; and now more than ever ready to fill Harry's warm and delectable pie. Gagrid pulls out his furry flesh weasel with a clenched fist, and as he does so allows one squirt of his squingy splooge to shoot right at Harry's eye.  
"Oh Gaggy!" Harry cried out with Gagrids man cream dangling from the lense of his eyeglasses.  
"You know I wouldn't want to make you hurt," Gagrid tenderly exclaimed as he ran his plump sausagey finger over the scar on Harry's forehead.  
Suddenly, Gagrid was overcome by a feeling of eyes, watching in anticipation. Gaggy knew someone was bearing witness on this animalistic display of affection between him and his delectable cream pie, Harry. On the hill above, stood Dumbledore, a fierce flame in his eyes and a visibly throbbing member under his robes. Gaggy was overflowing with jealousy, filling him with the strength of one thousand giants. He leaned in close to Harry, making sure the old man could hear nothing of his message.  
"Harry, we must go. My heart cannot bear the idea of somebody else desiring you in the ways that I do."  
Before Harry could even mutter a response, Gagrid ripped Harry from the tree, shattering the chains in one swift tug; further lacerating Harry's fragile flesh. Harry moaned out in ecstasy, Gagrid slinging him over his thick shoulders like a pig for slaughter.  
"I AM THE HEAD MASTER! You will stop with your fuck-meat now Hagrid." Dumble proclaimed.  
"No, he's MINE. And my name is GAGRID!" He roared back at him, "let it be known, now let us be!"  
Harry, dazed from the coma of orgasm induced brain damage casted out "PATRONA!" Hoping to stun the wicked peeping Tom from their love nest. An apparition of light, which looked eerily similar to Harry bent over cheeks spread with glee, came rocketing out of Harry's still taught and twitching wand. Dumbledore ran hissing chasing the light figure into the distant horizon.  
"Ya done good Harry," Gagrid fondly proclaimed as he gave Harry a firm slap on the buttocks


	2. The Chamber of Deepthroat

**A Few Weeks Earlier...**

Harry woke up in a panic, nestled in the sheets of his bed. He sat up slightly, leaning himself up on his elbow. He saw the shape of Ron's silhouette, in the bed over from his. He glanced at the clock seated on his bedside table, it shined out '2:27AM', Harry let out a sigh. He had had that _horrible_ dream _again._ He didn't quite know what to make of it, other than a very heavy discomfort that weighed down on his chest and made him feel queasy. The dream of course, was about no other than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

It started out in a dark corridor, conveniently near Knockturn Alley, where Dark Wizards gather all hours of the day. No light seemed to filter down to the ground, and Harry couldn't see much more than one foot in front of him. He was walking, without destination, deeper and deeper into the darkness, a rank smell of sewage, blood, and mold cloaking him like a heavy blanket. There were figures around Harry, gathered along the corridor, speaking in jumbled voices that could not be decoded. Their faces were hard to distinguish, like a puzzle missing the majority of its' pieces. There was a faint blue glow at the end of the alley, at least 500 feet away from where Harry was currently hobbling about. For some reason, he couldn't pull himself off course from stumbling towards the light. There Harry was, approaching Voldemort with out control, his body was magnetized to his parents murderer. Slowly, so slowly, knowing he had no escape, Harry surrenders to the dark Lord and whimpers out a cry in his deep sleep. Clung to Voldemort's filthy, blood-stained wardrobe, Harry now forced down unto his knees and his hands reaching for the opening in the horrible wizards cloak. Unable to say anything, when suddenly awakened by his own cries, "Another bad dream?" asked Ron, still half asleep.

"I think I need some fresh air," Harry tumbled out of bed, placed his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and walked into the stairwell and down into the kitchen at the Weasley residence. Noticing he had another restless resident fixing himself a past-midnight sandwich, "Oh, Harry," Arthur proclaimed with excitement, "I'm so glad it's you, come sit with me." He smiled at the boy, knowing Harry was delicate and in need of some kindness.

"Harry, my boy, are you okay?!" asked Arthur, with worry in his voice. Harry shrugged and sat down inches away from Ron's father, unable to truly focus.

"Oh, just having nightmares again," Harry mumbled, dazed, and still fighting the urge to vomit. Arthur leaned in, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder, "You know you can talk to me about anything, Harry," Arthur said in a soft tone, trying to comfort the young wizard. Harry's eyes filled with an excited glow, he knew this could be his chance to tell Mr. Weasley how he truly felt about him.

Harry didn't want to worry Arthur with his foul dream, yet he knew that maybe it could be his gateway into confessing his feelings of desire for the only father figure he ever truly had. Harry felt guilty about the dirty way he saw his best friend's father, especially because here he was, downstairs alone with Arthur, while Ron slept peacefully upstairs in his disgusting cum-stained sheets. Harry started to stutter, which caught Arthur's fierce attentive gaze.

"Speak up, boy," Arthur quietly yet sternly spoke to Harry.

"It's just- _this_ dream, I don't know what to make of it, Dadd-," Harry stopped himself, aware that 'daddy' almost slipped from his naughty mouth. He slipped a hand under the table to pinch himself, flinching at both his mistake, and the pain he just inflicted upon himself out of embarrassment. Arthur giggled a deep, loud sound, and a broad smile stretched across his face.

"Did 'daddy' almost just escape those delectable lips of yours, young man? Because I can surely be your daddy if that's what you desire. I was never expecting this from you, but I guess it's as good a time as any to tell you that I've lusted after you from the first time I met you. Of course, having feelings for a child as young as you were, at the time, still makes me sick of myself."

Harry was in complete and utter shock, he thought that once again he was in some foul, sexually frustrating dream that he would wake from any moment, disappointed and in need of a cleaning from his volcanic third leg. Harry reached his hand out across the table eagerly, yet quietly, to avoid waking the seven other members of the house. Arthur excitedly reached out to accept Harry.

Arthur, squeezing Harry's hand firmly pulled Harry towards him. They embraced in a brief, yet oddly aggressive kiss. Harry had to catch himself with his free hand to avoid falling out of his chair and onto the table. They separated suddenly as they heard Ron jumping out of bed, his feet thumping onto the floor upstairs. "Ron will be down soon, you should get ready to go." Arthur exclaimed with a stern growl in his voice, as if he were clearing his throat. Harry looked down into his lap his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Of course, I'll be ready in a moment" Harry replied looking up towards Arthur trying to mask the shameful longing in his voice. Arthur rummaged amongst the counters for a moment shuffling through the clutter and loose papers, clearly trying to act busy, as Ron came running down the stairs.

"Great morning! Hello, night owls, have you been up long?" Ron sprung joyfully down the stairs, well rested and totally oblivious to the sexual tension brooding in the room. Harry, trying desperately to hide his quivering, still.. growing erection. It was like watching a circus' tent be pitched, and all the wonders inside to discover. Harry yearned for Sir weasley so unforgivingly he hardly noticed Ron coming down at all. He had been so busy with trying not to rip his clothes off and exclame "take me now", swiping all of the countertops of their rummage and throwing himself unto the man of his biggest fantasies and with that thought realized he was currently having a waking-wet dream of his best friends dad, in front of his best friend. Ron.

Harry was so caught up in his whirlwind of fantasies that he forgot today he went back to school after a brief school-wide holiday break- it was only 4AM but Ron was now downstairs, gleefully hopping about, waiting for Hermione to wake up. More thumping of footsteps on the multiple levels of floors upstairs meant that either Ron's mother, George, Fred, Percy, Ginny, and/or Hermione were waking up, preparing for their days. Harry slowly started to stand up, pushing the chair back as he willed himself to start getting ready to return to Hogwarts. He snatched a Daily Prophet paper off of the table, carefully positioning it in his hands so that it covered his pulsating bulge. Luckily, he had the help of baggy pajama pants to aid in his predicament, but not so luckily, Ron's Mother had just reached the bottom of the stairs, and was headed over to Arthur to greet him with a tender kiss.

"You taste... different," she giggled, after their momentary lip lock.

"Must be the coffee and half-assed piece of burnt toast I consumed while talking with Harry, poor boy is having some pretty troublesome nightmares," Arthur sighed, trying to hide the rose in his cheeks by turning back towards the coffee pot for another cup.

"Harry dear, I could help you with those nightmares," Molly exclaimed, "I'm so sorry you've been so troubled with them lately. At least you'll have school festivities to focus on, and surely enough work to keep your mind occupied." Molly carried a gentle smile on her face, and embraced the young wizard in a hug, trying to empathize with Harry's grief.

Harry felt nothing but rage. He wanted to confess to Molly of his infidelity, being that he loved her like his own mother. He also, in the same breath, wanted to slap her across the face and run off into the horizon with Arthur. Harry contained his rage to express gratitude towards Molly, before taking off upstairs to get ready for the long day ahead of him. He half-sprinted up the stairs, bumping into George on his way up. George laughed at Harry, asking him of what rush he could possibly be in, and then after noticing Harry's peculiar paper placement made a witty remark about Harry's hardened wood.

"Guess those nightmares aren't much of a problem anymore, eh?" George continued downstairs to start his day, chuckling and shaking his bulbous head. Harry hurriedly ran directly into the bathroom, making a b-line for the sink. He double locked the door behind him, staring into the mirror at himself in shame, disgust, and delight, confused tears running down his face. Harry proceeded to pull down his pants, gripping his wiggling worm. His erect and shaking penile was quivering so hard that it felt as though he was breathing through his penis. Harry proceeded to get right to business, lubing himself up with toad butter, taking his aggression and frustration out on himself so hard that he almost gave himself a friction burn. He cleaned up his mess off of the tile flooring, and wandered into Ron and his room to get dressed for his first day back at school.

Harry, in a daze, spent his entire trip from the Weasley household, to Platform 9 and three quarters, dreaming of Arthur's finely aged bleu cheese log lost in his chamber of deepthroat, gently- yet aggressively caressing his uvula.


	3. The Gobbling of Fiery Loins

Harry, Ron and Hermione finally being settled at Hogwarts after a week and a few days of back-to-school festivities allowed Harry to let the encounter with Arthur to go unto the back burner of his filthy mind. Being around Ron allowed Harry to manage his priorities and decide that his friendship was far too important to jeopardize. Arthur was a fantasy that Harry desperately wanted to fulfil, but, he didn't want to be a home wrecker to the only home he felt welcome in.

"Harry my boy," a stern, deep voice echoed so familiarly with a warm and consoling hand placed upon the small of Harry's back.

He knew who it was before he even turned around, and with entrancing excitement, a beaming smile and a quake of desire,  
"HAGRID! Where have you been? I've missed you so," with that, Gagrid felt a tinge of discomfort being that no one knew his true identity, or feelings toward Harry. Harry let out a sigh of relief, knowing that Hagrid was by his side.

"C'mon now, my boy. Heard Dumbledore wanted to speak with you. Said it was important," Hagrid proclaimed, trying to mask the jealousy in his voice.

Gagrid wanted time with Harry, and although he felt a throbbing ache in his heart, as well as pants, for the boy who lived, he knew that he couldn't keep Harry from school, let alone the headmaster. Gagrid offered to walk with Harry, trying to treasure each special second he had with Potter before leaving him in the headmaster's care. As the equally sexually frustrated duo, both equally unaware of the other's sexual frustration, approached the doors to the headmaster's lair, Gagrid couldn't help but run circles in his mind of what Dumbledore wanted from the young man.

' _I bet the old coot simply wants to spend time with his favorite student. Just trying to mask it up with the idea of something important so that nobody can give him any grief. Or maybe it is something important, and I'm just a selfish bastard for wanting time with the lad. I'm horrible for assuming anything at all..'_

Gagrid put his hand on Harry's back and scooted him towards the headmaster's door, wishing him luck and regretfully turning his back on the boy, wishing they had more time for eachother. Harry opened up the door to the chambers, looking behind himself at Hagrid, waving goodbye with regret that his time with the giant was cut short. Harry stumbled in, tripping over his feet, flustered and eager to get his meeting with Dumbledore over with, so he could return to his day. Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, greeted Harry with a shrill screech, alerting Dumbledore. The crusty old man poked his head up from below his desk, a broad smile on his face. He jumped up with the energy level of a child, excited to greet the boy.

"Come in, come in! So good to see you, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling and rushing over.

"How are you doing, sir? What did you need?" Harry had an inquisitive look in his eyes, thoughts of Hagrid racing through his mind in a jumbled rush.

"Actually, I just wanted to spend some one on one time with you, get to know you better!" Dumbledore cried out, tripping over his own feet trying to grab two cups from a nearby cupboard.

Harry didn't know how to feel. He appreciated Dumbledore's presence, and loved him as headmaster, but didn't feel they had much to talk about unless it had to do with his parents, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or some kind of task that Dumbledore had for him. Dumbledore grabbed a bottle of slug slime from the cupboard, muttering something about it being well-aged and full of flavor. Harry wasn't interested in bonding over drinks with Dumbledore, and the familiar queasiness of his Voldemort nightmares was slowly returning to the pit of his stomach.

"So, tell me, my boy, are you enjoying your time back at Hogwarts so far? How was your break? How are you doing in your classes? Silly me, I know you're doing great," Dumbledore rambled on and on, it almost seemed as though he was forgetting to take breaths between words.

"Actually, I have somewhere to be right now, sir. I'm sorry for not being able to stick around longer, but I'm in between things right now." Harry mumbled, anxious to hear the headmaster's response.

The light in Dumbledore's eyes grew dull, an expression of distress appearing on his face.

"Very well. Do as you must, little Potter," Dumbledore stated blandly, knocking over his cup of slime, muttering something under his breath.

Instead of cleaning up the mess, Dumbledore stared into the pool of fermented slime brew, watching it drip and ooze off of his desk. He started to twitch in the face, tremors in his hands getting more and more noticeable. Suddenly, Dumbledore raised his bony arm, bringing it down on the glass chalice with immense force, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. Harry, so close to the blow, was left with puncture marks in his arms, blood dripping from the wounds, glass shards poking out of his baby-like flesh. Fawkes burst into flames, falling away into a pile of ash. Where a baby phoenix would normally materialize out of the ashes, there was only a shaking pile, as though the baby version of Fawkes was cowering in fear. Harry yanked the chunks of glass from his skin, throwing them down onto the table, and re-arranging his robes. Dumbledore jumped up, rushing towards Harry with panic in his face. He tried to embrace Harry in his arms, a bellowing sob coming from his frail body. Harry put out his arms to keep Dumbledore back, horror in his eyes, and pain in his chest over the drastic personality changes Dumbledore was exposing in himself."Harry, please. I don't know what came over me just then. Let me help you, I can grab you some salve from my-," Harry cut off Dumbledore with a shake of his head.

"I have somewhere to be, sir. I apologize. I need to go." Harry hurriedly collected himself, and his things, scurrying out of the door while Dumbledore stood leaned over his desk, sobbing.

As soon as Harry closed the door behind him, he broke into a sprint, escaping around the nearest corner. He perched himself up against the corridor wall, crying. He was overcome with confusion, fear, anger, sadness, and pain. He wanted to find Hagrid simply for the comfort that the giant behemoth man offered to him. Harry wanted to be held, and cry in somebody's arms. The event that just occurred and the horror of Harry's nightmares were merging again, dreams and reality harder to decipher. Harry longed to be needed, but at what cost? Yearning with quaking fear and the arousal that follows as if his lust was always silhouetting the trauma he endures. Desperately needing to shake the cruel daydreaming, Harry was suddenly in front of G(h)agrids abode.

Pounding upon the giant giant's door, clueless Gagrid was already peering outside his window, longing for his nymph boy to come running to him after his endeavors with the… head master. Giddy with luck to his wishes being fulfilled but just as well ashamed of himself forcing to hide his longing glee, he opened the door with a mundane tone, "Harry, why are you here? I'm very busy here... I'd imagine you'd have better things to do with your time."

Still hoping that Harry would satisfy him by giving him any kind of attention, even more hopefully, satisfy his craving for his affection. Only now seeing Harry past his fog of unrequited lust did Gaggy realize the young boy's disarray. Immediately he scooped Harry into his arms to coddle him, unaware that his large face and mangled beard were nestled into Harry's neck, inhaling his scents so deeply, feeling his lips pursing against Harry's goosebump-covered skin.

Gagrid sat, holding the young man, thousands of thoughts racing through his eager brain. His lips felt so electric against Harry's flesh, and that was only on his neck. Gaggy couldn't help but wonder the ecstasy that would come from his lips being pursed around something else. Something much more hungry to have lips wrapped around- sliding, slipping, slurping, sucking, licking, tasting the flavors of a well-aged man. The giant man had to suddenly release his grip around Potter, coming back to reality, and the words that he'd apparently been tuning out in his time of dirty desires. He could feel the beast in his trousers starting to wake, trembling and aching for Harry's tight holes.

"And then he slammed his bloody glass of booze into the tabletop so hard that the glass shards shot into my arms! All because I didn't want to stay alone with him and get drunk... Who does that, Hagrid? I just don't understand... was he already drinking today? Since when does he drink, anyways? Especially while school is in session? And _why in the world did he want to drink with me?_ I wish I had the answers. I really do. Everybody expects me to, but I don't Hagrid. I just don't!"

Harry silenced his own rant with deep, pained sobs, trying to utter bits and pieces of all the words he had locked inside of himself, but he couldn't even get that far. Gaggy lifted a gentle, oversized finger to Harry's buttery lips, motioning to quiet down. Harry's eyes widened, the tears lessening. The two locked eyes in a moment of pure intimacy, the greed within Gaggy's trembling pork whistle skyrocketing to new heights, and lengths. If only both of them knew how ravenous their temptations were. For Harry, he was lost in his lewd filth toward anyone who had ever established either dominance, authority or... _nurture._ Gagrid on the other hand, from the moment he held Harry outside of his horrible "Aunt and Uncle" and their hellish home, knew Harry was his purpose in life. Only now, feeling their purpose together was to be intertwined, and hopefully Gagrid to have Harry's bowely-guts intertwined with Gag's pulsating hound, flesh inside of flesh.

There was absolutely no way Gagrid could put Harry down without him seeing his nearly one **_foot_**... 6 inch furry-fucking-organ. Gagrid thought to himself ' _how do I stop before it's too late_?' Gag was soon to find out, there is no way to stop but one. Gagrid sat down with Harry upon his lap, fully erect, hands cradling his blood-rushing-blushed cheeks. Harry fully aware of the sizeable "elephant" in the room with him and couldn't help but lock his eyes unto the creature growing below him. With Gagrid's hands still holding the boy's face, "Oh, you like him? My furry pet? He wants to be a good boy for you, and only you."

Harry rippled as he felt the stiff groin gouger underneath him, breathing with life and longing for Harry's puckered, pulsating flower. He wanted Hagrid inside of him, exploring his undiscovered cavern, plowing through the mud. Harry could feel his urges intensifying, his primal instincts kicking in. He started to slowly glide his inexperienced body back and forth over the mound in Hagrid's pants, Hagrid's eyes widening and then slowly rolling back in his head.

"Harry... you... don't... have... to... do... this," Gaggy yelped between quickened breathing.

Harry snickered. "Of course I do, big boy," he whispered seductively, while continuing to tease Gag's bean stalk with his silky fingers.

Gagrid pulled Harry in closer, gripping his back with meaty phalanges, digging his untrimmed fingernails into the young wizard's robes, tearing them slightly.

"Now's your last chance to back out, my pet is absolutely ravished. I don't know how much longer I can hold him off, and I have no clue where his leash or collar are..." Gagrid smirked, knowing Harry and his spasming member couldn't say no. He could feel the young boy's whizz-popper expanding, ready to be sucked dry of every last drop of love potion he had.

Harry let out a whiny giggle, beyond ready for his tight orifice to be opened like the Chamber of Secrets. "Hagrid, I want you more than I've ever wanted anything."

Right as Gaggy lifted his quaking hands, ready to carry the boy off to his dungeon, Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it right at Hagrid's lap lizard.

" _ **Engorgio**_ ," the clever boy shouted out, a beam of light shooting directly into Gag.

Gagrid let out a howl, his meat exploding with length and girth, nearly two times bigger than he was originally. "I'm ready, now," the young man whispered into Gag's veiny ears, "Take me before the death eaters do."


End file.
